𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑

𝟏𝟒

How did I forget what this was like?

We didn't talk for five minutes, and the second we say a single sentence to the other, everything is better.

Of course, there's still so much that hasn't been said. But for now, this is how I like this. With her talking about her new friends as she prepares her breakfast next to me.

Both of us are in nothing but PJs and that's how our weekend has been going. PJs, lots of TV watching, music listening. And in a few minutes, bracelet making. Or maybe rings—she prefers rings over bracelets.

"Open your eyes!" Summer sings into the spatula, giving me crazy eyes.

When it registers in my mind, I sputter out the rest of the following lyrics.

"Y-you know li—love is on your side!"

She cheers, throwing her arms around me as she continues singing Mr. Nice Guy by Kynsy as a solo. I turn for the stove and she doesn't let go, only waddling around me so her front is pressed to my back.

It's such a small thing, yet it's also intimate in a way I forgot you could be. I wonder if she thinks anything about it, or if I'm imagining thing.

She's singing next to my ear, the spatula in her hand hanging just over my shoulder. Her eyes must be focused on the stove because when her bagel sandwich thing is done, she pokes my cheek and tells me to open my mouth.

I do and she puts the handle of the spatula between my lips. She steps back and watches as I serve her the sandwich she started and I finished.

"Fank you." She says when she takes the fist bite and does a little dance on her way to the couch.

I watch her until I hear the toaster. I toss my toast onto my plate and make my way toward her with it in my hand.

"What are we watching?" She asks, tilting her head back.

I shrug. "What do you wanna watch?"

"Whatever you do."

"Any suggestions?"

"You'll agree to the first one you hear and then there would be no point in you choosing because technically—"

"I'm going to shove that bagel down your throat if you don't stop." I warn and her mouth clamps shut.

I don't care that she has a point. My entire existence has been revolving around pleasing her and even if one of her suggestions were Sesame Street, I would put it on in a heartbeat. Whatever makes her happy. It's important to me that her every need I can help with is met.

"Don't ever threaten my bagel-sandwich."

I roll my eyes and grab the remote from the small space between us. She lets out a little grunt as I'm switching through the channels. When I look at her, she's pulling her legs up onto the couch.